


Goddamn Broken Pool Filter.

by orphan_account



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Typical Swearing, M/M, Rating May Change, canon typical homophobia, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 10:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16659514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: AU - Pool boy.Dennis is unhappily married to Maureen Ponderosa, living a hollow but extravagent lifestyle in the suburbs. He hires street rat Mac for a bit of help (and eye candy) around the house.





	Goddamn Broken Pool Filter.

**Author's Note:**

> So it's my yearly fic because I'm the worse writer to have ever written. Inspired by so many fan fics out there but IASIP seems to not have that much fun AU so adding to that.  
> No mean comments pls I'm a small gay bean. 
> 
> Like comment subscribe, it'll help me write more chapters.  
> PEACE.

Fresh out of flunking high school and losing all his drug dealing contacts to college places, Mac came to the realisation that he needed something that resembled a real job.  
At least until he found more reliable people to sell weed to.

Outside the third corner store of the day sporting wanted flyers, something jumped out at Mac.

_Swimming pool service technician._

“So, like a pool boy?” Charlie says, smirking and cocking an eyebrow. “Man, I didn’t know those things actually existed outside of pornos.”

Mac snorts and keeps studying the flyer. “I know dude. They must be loaded. I’ve never met anyone who has their own pool never mind hiring someone to clean it. We only ever swam in that local pool, god knows nobody cleaned that, full of piss and shit…”  
Mac trailed off.

“Maybe it’s a front for a sex thing,” Charlie said thoughtfully, “Maybe you’ll end up in some porno.”

“For ten bucks and hour?” Mac says, “I’m not that poor bro.” He thinks about it, “Like _maybe_ for twenty if I got lunch included.”

Charlie shoots him a glare.

Mac quickly changes the subject, “I mean it won’t do any harm to give a call, right? I’ve bombed all my interviews so far and cleaning a pool? How hard can it be?”

“Super _hard_ ,” Charlie moans obnoxiously, like a dead behind the eyes broad from every porno ever, “So, so, so _hard_ …”

 

* * *

 

  
Locking himself in the bathroom of their apartment so Charlie can’t blow this up for him with another weird sex joke, Mac dials the number on the flyer.

“Hello?” After several rings a woman with a very nasal voice answers, “Who’s this?”

Mac puts on his most charming voice, “Hi, my name is Ronald McDonald. I saw your advert for a spot as a swimming pool service technician? I was wondering if that was still open?”

"Oh yes, it is!" The woman says, "I'm having interviews for all the applicants this Sunday, if that's—"

"Interview?" Mac repeats dumbly, furrowing his brow, "You need to interview me to be your po— _swimming pool service technician_?"

“Well yes,” The woman says, “I’m sure you’re an upstanding pillar of Philadelphia’s community, Mr McDonald but I’ve got a house full of valuables and a husband to think of. You can’t be too careful with people these days.”

“Cool, I guess.” Mac started to get anxious. _Interview_? He didn’t think this would be any different to his usual walk up and do it jobs.  
Switching back to his charming persona Mac replies, “I completely understand. Sunday works for me. What time would be best?”

 

* * *

 

“They’re _interviewing_ you?” Charlie shouts as Mac leaves the bathroom, having obviously listening in, “To be a pool boy?”

“Swimming pool service technician,” Mac corrects, wincing, like that’s any better, “And yep. Apparently, she wants me to bring a _resume_ as well, what’s that shit.”

“They sound like stuck-up posh assholes dude.”

“So, You and I are stuck- up assholes too - we’re just poor.”

Charlie shrugs, “Fair enough.”

“I have jack shit experience that could help me out here man, it’s not like I’ve got a solid reference from being the area’s best drug dealer. “

“Best?!” Charlie shrieks.

Mac ignores him, “My only hope is that the wife thinks I’m a beefcake and hires me, so she can brag about it to all her friends.” He states, flexing.

“Or the husband’s a queer.”

Mac raises an eyebrow, deciding, “Yeah that’d work. Help me write this stupid thing”

 

* * *

 

 

The house (yes, a  _house_ —not a shitty, four room apartment but a balconied house, in the middle of prime real estate Philly?) is more or less what Mac was expecting from this sort of neighbourhood, but it still makes his eyes widen all the same. 

As he’s walking up the road, Mac passes another man heading out, and even though the man’s muscles have nothing on him he’s immediately intimidated by the blue-collared hard worker demeanour the older man has. Mac dares a glance at his hard calloused hands and compares them with his own soft ones noticing all the differences.

Yeah, his only hope is going to be his looks.

Mac checks his hair is slicked all the way back perfectly in one of the window panes, before hesitantly pressing the doorbell.

A few moments later, a woman wearing the ugliest cat jumper Mac had ever seen, makeup slightly smudged, and early onset crow’s feet due to stress already starting to line her eyes—opens the door, "You must be Ronald, right?" As she opens her mouth to speak Mac isn’t certain, but he thinks he spots a dead tooth towards the right side of her mouth.

Not exactly the real housewife’s material he’d pictured. “Call me Mac.” He asks as he shakes her limp hand.

Mac summons all his power and puts on his most flirtatious grin, “And you must be the beautiful lady I talked to on the phone.”

The compliment makes her smile a little, but she's more or less unaffected. 

Evidently, it's not looking too good for him.

"Come in," She ushers, politely, "My husband is waiting for us in the dining room."

As Mac follows the woman (" _Please, call me Maureen_ "), he can't help but pick up on the underlying hollowness of the suburban home. The house is filled with decor items and expensive conversation pieces, but there's no trinkets or mementos—no indicator that this is a  _home_  rather than just a piece on display.

On the wall Mac spots only one personal photo, a portrait of Maureen (looking deranged), and handsome man that Mac supposes is Maureen’s husband (looking pained).

Nothing about this house reads as happy, and that’s something that Mac might be able to work to his advantage given the opportunity. 

Finally, they reach the dining room where Mac spies a bored-looking man sitting at the table with his head tipped back, eyes drilling into the ceiling and looking distinctly like he'd rather be anywhere else but here.

Idly, Mac wonders if that's just because of the interviews or if he just always feels like that.

"Dennis, this is Mac," Maureen says with a pointed clearing of her throat, looking more resigned to her husband's apathy rather than annoyed, "He's another one of the applicants."

Dennis sighs and tilts his head down to get a look of him, the boredom briefly slipping from his face.

At the sight of Mac’s broad shoulders and thick biceps under his t-shirt, Dennis very subtly straightens in his chair, and there’s not a single heterosexual excuse to explain away the flicker of interest in his face before it settles back into stone. 

Mac has to fight to keep a wide smirk off his face. _Jackpot_. I’m in the money today. 

Maureen hardly even blinks at her husband's sudden attentiveness—either because she doesn't notice the implication or she's electing to ignore it.

To test out the waters, Mac licks his lips and smiles at Dennis, "Good to meet you."

Dennis’ expression doesn’t change, but his eyes drop to Mac’s mouth automatically before he seems to catch himself, pushing his gaze back up to his eyes, “Let’s just get this thing over with.”

Mac takes the seat across the table of Dennis while Maureen sits by her husband, the formality of it almost reignites Mac’s nerves.

"So," Maureen says, flicking through the very light resume that he'd worked at with Charlie all night, "I see that you have no electrical or plumbing experience."

"Nope."

"And you are not employed at all right now? Not even part time?"

"Well, I do a series of ,uhm, odd jobs like this to pay the rent," Mac elaborates, "I haven't really found anywhere that's worth steady employment."

"This wouldn't be so steady," Maureen informs him, "We'd only need you about once a week to check on the filters and clean the water."

"And I'll always be available to do that." Mac says, flickering his gaze briefly to Dennis,

"Really, I'll be available  _any_  time." He's laying in on thick, but it’s solely out of the desire to get this easy, fair-paying job.

Dennis holds his gaze for a split second, seemingly stunned and curious at Mac’s bluntness, before he looks away.

"Have you worked anywhere that would assure us you'd know what you're doing?" Maureen asks not buying any of it, "Have you ever worked with filters or equipment repair?"

“No but my flatmate Charlie is a janitor, so I know some tricks from him. Also, I’m a quick learner,” Mac offers and says very sweetly “And I’m _very_ good with my hands.” He keeps his eyes locked with Maureen, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Dennis’ gaze flicker down and study his digits, the Adam’s apple of his throat bobbing. 

"Any criminal history?" Dennis asks this time, adding firmly, "And don't lie. We can easily check, and we will." 

“I’m clean.” Mac says, looking over at Dennis, “One of you could always stay and watch me if it made you more comfortable, I wouldn’t mind.” 

“You wouldn’t huh?”

It just occurs to Mac that this has played out exactly like the cheesy dialogue from a low budget porno. Charlie would howl with high-pitched laughter when he told him. 

“No, _Sir_ ,” Mac says, playing his role as the slutty hired help, “Not one bit.” 

It's only flirting, and by the way that the rest of the interview goes (as in they find out that he doesn't even know what a pool filter does or looks like), Mac doesn't honestly think that he'll get the job, even if the husband wants to get screwed by him hard into the wall.  
Which is why he's surprised when Maureen calls him the next day.

"Can you come over tomorrow afternoon?" Maureen says, and she doesn't sound so happy about his sudden employment, "Apparently Dennis will be able to show you how to clean the pool and maintain the filters himself."

"Really?" Mac says, trying to both hide his surprise and keep his shitty ramen noodles on his fork, "That's—that's great. Thank you. I can't wait." They exchange some more information before Mac is able to hang up.

"Was that the rich, posh pool lady?" Charlie asks, stuffing is mouth full of noodles. 

"Yeah," Mac says bemusedly, adding thoughtfully, "I think I was just hired to fuck her husband."


End file.
